


Real People, Real Fiction

by scrollgirl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, not actually RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 13:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrollgirl/pseuds/scrollgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve tries not to let celebrity gossip culture drag him down, and Tony takes him on a date to cheer him up: The lives of real people and the real fiction that gets written about them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real People, Real Fiction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mystmoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystmoon/gifts).



> Written for [mystmoon](http://mystmoon.tumblr.com/) for the [Stony Secret Santa](http://stonysecretsanta.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. I know you asked for banter, but this was as close as I could get! Hope you enjoy!

Steve gets back from his morning workout to find Tony and his friend Rhodes in the team kitchen, both looking a little worse for wear after their wild night out on the town. "You fellas look like you could use my Ma's hangover remedy."

Rhodes squints in Steve's direction, looking pathetic and hopeful, but Tony screws up his face in remembered revulsion. "Ugh, I'd rather drink paint thinner. Or that goo from the slug monster last month, that smelled like rotten eggs or, I dunno, pork that's gone bad--"

"Stop," moans Rhodes. "Stop talking about things that make me want to vomit."

Clutching his coffee to his chest, Tony edges away from Rhodes. "Aim for the sink, honeybear."

"Well, you let me know if either of you change your mind on that remedy," says Steve, amused. On the stove are sausages and eggs in a covered pan, Thor's culinary contribution to keeping his teammates hale and hearty, which Steve appreciates because he's always starved after a workout. He heats up his breakfast in the microwave, pours a glass of milk, and sits down with a tablet to check his email. He goes through the work-related ones from Fury, then moves on to the non-work emails.

There's one from Darcy, just a URL and an accompanying sentence: _The paps strike again_.

Grimacing, he clicks the link and opens up Perez Hilton (no relation to the hotels, apparently) to see a photo that must have been taken last night, Tony and Rhodey outside a club in Chelsea.

"What?" asks Tony, peering at Steve from over his fourth cup of coffee. He looks marginally more awake. "What's that face?"

"Just admiring the pants you had painted on last night." Steve carefully drags his fingers across the tablet's surface and lightly flicks the photo and accompanying article onto the breakfast bar, which obligingly turns into a screen so Tony see.

Rhodes leans over and starts reading out loud. "' _Just friends? Tony 'Iron Man' Stark was photographed getting handsy with BFF James 'War Machine' Rhodes'_ \-- Tony, are you paying off the tabloids so they only refer to me as War Machine? This is like the sixth time I've seen them use War Machine instead of Iron Patriot."

"That hurts me, Rhodey, that you'd accuse me of interfering with the fourth estate."

Ignoring the banter, Steve skims the article. _Now that Don't Ask, Don't Tell is history, all that's stopping the Stark/Rhodes bromance from dropping the letter 'b' is the Sentinel of Liberty himself. But is this the end of Iron America? Sources close to Stark and Steve 'Captain America' Rogers say our favourite super-powered couple have been on the rocks since the Stark Industries Christmas gala last Saturday, when Rogers caught his boyfriend locking lips with Pepper Potts, Stark's ex and CEO. Potts had no comment about the Mistletoe Incident but onlookers say she stayed composed when confronted by a jealous Rogers. Are Potts and Stark patching things up? Or is Stark trying to have his cake and eat it too by playing the field right under Cap's nose?_

"Hey. Steve, hey."

He looks up into Tony's worried gaze. Behind Tony, Rhodes is pretending to be absorbed in the article to give them some semblance of privacy while remaining close and supportive. "No, Tony, I know," he sighs. "You don't have to say it. We're public figures and people are always going to be talking about us."

"Yes, true, but I was also going to say that you should stop reading that trash. Trust me, that way leads to ulcers and frown lines. Plus, every time you read one of those articles, you pout for two days straight with your lip sticking out like, yeah, like that. And you know I can't resist that lip--" Tony slides sideways onto Steve's lap and drags the pad of his thumb over Steve's plump bottom lip. "So I have to cheer you up with marathon sex, which is always when the supervillains try to take over Manhattan. They seem to have an unerring ability to predict when we're too busy having sex to get suited up quickly. It's like clockwork."

Steve smiled reluctantly, shaking his head. "Pretty sure Doom doesn't time his attacks around our date nights, Tony."

"Ha. You wanna bet on that?"

*

Steve forgets about the tabloids until early January, when he ducks into a convenience store for a pack of gum on his way home from sketching the bare, wintry trees in Central Park. On a rack by the cash register, there's a display of magazines. The cover of US Weekly has an inset photo of him and Natasha in civvies, mostly from behind, his face turned enough to be recognizable while Natasha glares over her shoulder, right at the camera. The photo captures her arm hovering around his waist. The caption reads: _Black Widow preys on a spurned Captain America!_

He remembers a few afternoons ago, a Tuesday, the weather warm enough that they'd gone out without hats and scarves. The two of them were picking up more bagels after Bruce had let the Hulk out for training and then eaten their entire supply of baked goods, and Steve had wanted to make another stop at the bookstore. Natasha had steered him away, saying the Hulk might still be hungry. Obviously she'd been trying to protect him. And obviously Steve needs to get better at noticing when Natasha is dissembling.

"It's pretty stupid, huh," says the girl behind the register.

He glances at her, wary. "I'm sorry?"

The girl looks young, maybe sixteen or seventeen, probably the daughter of the man unpacking tins of biscuits in the snack aisle. She's got her phone out, her thumbs moving like lightning on the touchscreen, more than likely tweeting that Captain America likes to read about himself in the gossip rags. The girl jerks her chin at the US Weekly magazine. "The whole stalking celebrities? I get taking photos on the red carpet when everyone's all glamorous, but not, like, hiding in the bushes like a total creep. Half the gossip is made up, but everyone pretends it's all real, and I just don't get it. Why do people give a crap what Jennifer Lawrence had for breakfast? Just go to the movies already! _Catching Fire_ is awesome and, y'know, actually kind of relevant? But nobody's getting it confused with hard-hitting journalism." The girl finally seems to notice she's ranting at a stranger. She turns shy, sheepish. "Sorry. For, uh..."

"Please don't apologize. I couldn't have said it better myself," replies Steve fervently, not too proud to admit he feels vindicated by a high school kid's indignation. He puts his package of gum on the counter, then throws in a couple of _Archie_ digests. "Thanks," he says when she rings up his purchases and hands them back. "Have a nice day, Miss."

"Harpreet," she calls after him.

He turns back with a bright, toothpaste grin. "Have yourself a nice day, Harpreet."

"You too, Cap!"

*

It's almost three o'clock on a Thursday afternoon and Steve's in the living room reviewing mission reports when JARVIS notifies him of a phone call from Tony.

"Let's go see a musical," says Tony briskly, without any kind of hello, how are you, I'm on my way home. He'd been invited to guest-lecture at Columbia University that morning, and to have lunch with the Dean--which was overcooked salmon, according to one of the texts Steve received on his cell chronicling his boyfriend's two hours of inescapable tedium. (The Dean was one of Pepper's college professors, otherwise Tony wouldn't have restrained himself to merely texting under the table.)

Tony's still going on about seeing a musical. "An Off-Off-Broadway thing," he adds. "So off, I'm not even sure they're allowed to charge admission."

"You... want to see a musical."

"Well, I've been promised pirates, so I'm game."

By this point in their relationship, Steve has learned there are times it's worthwhile to follow Tony's lead and trust he won't take them too far off the path of good sense. It's true in the field and it's proving true in their personal lives as well, and all he asks is that Tony minimize property damage wherever possible. "And when were you thinking of seeing this musical?"

"Tonight, six-thirty. We can grab an early dinner first at that restaurant you like, you know, for the geriatric. I'll have Happy pick you up."

"I can walk, Tony, don't have Happy put himself out for me," he protests. "I'll meet you there at five, then?"

"Make it four-thirty. I didn't _eat_ any of that salmon, just moved it around on my plate."

Steve clucks his tongue, playing up the mother hen routine. "Four-thirty it is. It's a date." And he hangs up, feeling almost giddy. He tries to get back to work, but the SHIELD reports don't hold his attention for long. He hasn't had a proper date with Tony in a while, he realizes, and wonders how they'd let things get so busy that they'd stopped.

A cold front has moved in and New York is finally feeling the bite of winter. He exchanges his t-shirt and khakis for a green button-down and a pair of black jeans that Tony says really showcase his ass. Before getting on the elevator, he pulls on boots, a tuque, a hand-knit scarf in Gryffindor colours (Natasha's Christmas gift to him), thick gloves, and his winter coat. With his hair and chin mostly obscured, and with a new pair of wraparound shades instead of his usual aviators, Steve feels safely anonymous. The streets are dirty with slush, but he breathes in the crisp, cold air as his long legs eat up the twelve city blocks between Stark Tower and the restaurant.

Tony's at a booth in the back, still in his suit but with his tie off. "You've been pretty miserable about this paparazzi thing, I know," he says quietly, again without any preface. "I wanted to make it up to you."

"It's hardly your fault, Tony." Steve understands that being an Avenger means being in the public eye, a role model for young and old alike, a celebrity to be gawked at, photographed, and gossiped about online. Perhaps dating Tony heightens the glamour, but Steve counts that as a minor inconvenience.

Four-thirty is early for dinner, but the restaurant caters to a different, older demographic--Tony isn't exactly wrong in calling them geriatric. It means there are fewer camera phones and less chance that their neighbouring table is tweeting what Captain America and Iron Man are having for dinner. Other than a few stares, they eat in relative peace and quiet and it's just... nice. Relaxing. Tony grumbles a little about Columbia, shares a story about Rhodey and MIT that Steve's heard twice, and then Steve tells him about meeting Harpreet and these stories Clint found on the internet, all about the Avengers having sex in various combinations--Steve and Natasha, Clint and Bruce, Thor with Steve and Tony (but no mention of Jane, which he found annoying).

"You saying it doesn't bother you?" asks Tony, one eyebrow going up. "The fiction?"

"No, it does, but not as much as the tabloids." Steve stops and munches on a thick-cut fry as he considers how to explain it. "It's still... uncomfortable. Embarrassing. They're writing about us having sex, and speculating on who tops and who bottoms. But then they write the story and it's _fiction_. Sure, they use details from interviews and appearances, but none of the stories I've looked at were based on gossip magazines or paparazzi photos of us grocery shopping. It's fiction, everyone knows it's fiction, and nobody thinks I'm cheating on you with Natasha even though that's what the story is about."

Tony smirks. "Right, they just think you and Nat look hot together. Hey, I'll admit to having a few idle fantasies of my own, even though I haven't written them down as erotic fiction to share on the internet. I could be persuaded to share them with you, though."

The teasing isn't enough on its own to make him blush, but the heated look Tony gives him under his lashes gets him warm under the collar anyway.

They walk from the restaurant to the theatre, which turns out to be a coffee shop redressed to hold a tiny stage and a few rows of chairs. They buy their tickets and slip in as the house lights go down, just another couple of New Yorkers enjoying amateur theatre. Tony hadn't lied. There are, in fact, pirates--puppet pirates that sing and play instruments, that swear and complain about their love-lives. The actors are funny, and even when he doesn't quite get a joke, the energy of the room carries him along until he's laughing anyway. Tony leans against him, his right hand on Steve's left knee, occasionally creeping up his thigh but for the most part content to rest there.

At intermission, however, it's clear they've been recognized. They sign a few autographs and ignore the flash of camera phones while they chat with the women seated next to them, who confess to being on their first date.

"You know the paps will be outside when the show's over," Tony murmurs as the lights go down for the second act. "I'm sorry, I really wanted you to have a good time."

"I'm having a great time," he says, leaning down to kiss Tony's pinched mouth. "Hey, I mean it. This has been wonderful. Thank you."

Tony's face softens and he nods. "We'll have to remember to do it more often."

They applaud the actors and puppeteers when they take their curtain calls, and the AV crew at the back. As they file out, Steve borrows a sharpie from one of the AV women and scribbles on the blank reverse of a discarded show flier. Tony watches him, bemused and shaking his head. "You're adorable, you know that?" 

When they get outside and the paparazzi start calling for Steve to smile, for Tony to look here, Steve turns and raises up his handmade sign directing gossip magazine readers to [Worldwide Orphans](http://wwo.org/) and [Gilda's Club New York City](http://gildasclubnyc.org/). Smirking, Tony leans into his side and takes one corner from him, holding the sign between them. "Best date ever?" he asks.

"I can unequivocally say this has been the best date we've gone on in 2014," Steve replies.

Tony's hand settles on his ass. "Oh, I like a challenge."

**Author's Note:**

> Steve writes a message similar to the one Emma Stone and Andrew Garfield did in [this photo](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/scrollgirl/973555/374421/374421_original.jpg). The charities Emma and Andrew promoted are [Worldwide Orphans](http://wwo.org/) and [Gilda's Club New York City](http://gildasclubnyc.org/).
> 
> I took some inspiration from [MediAvengers](http://mediavengers.com/). Note that no tabloids were harmed in the writing of this story. Apologies if I've misrepresented any of these fine publications.


End file.
